


Too Much of Not Enough

by sadkittiehours



Series: Werewolf Spencer 'Verse [3]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Werewolf Spencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 04:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadkittiehours/pseuds/sadkittiehours
Summary: Brendon can totally win this bet. All he has to do is not jump Spencer. It's fine. No big deal. Even if it is the day before the full moon and Brendon feels like he's going to come if someone even looks at him sideways.
Relationships: Spencer Smith/Brendon Urie
Series: Werewolf Spencer 'Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213448





	Too Much of Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> taken from live journal.[ read the original work here](https://allfourinches.livejournal.com/9481.html?utm_source=3userpost)

"Good morning," Spencer says, kissing Brendon on the forehead. When Brendon finally comes to he takes a deep breath and has to grab onto the sheets tightly so he doesn't reach for Spencer's shoulders.

"Oh god," Brendon says, taking a shaky breath and then hissing when he breathes in Spencer's scent again. God, the way he smells. "I was hoping you'd forget."

"Are you forfeiting? Does that mean I win?" Spencer asks gleefully, sitting up in bed, and Brendon has to bite back a whine.

"It means I fucking hate you, oh my god. And no. No forfeiting. I'm not jumping you, am I?"

"No, but it looks like you really want to," Spencer says when he stands up. Brendon wants to feel vindicated because Spencer's clearly hard, his cock flushed and jutting out in front of him, but Brendon's too busy worrying about coming from the sheets sliding over his cock.

"Uggghh," Brendon groans into the pillow, and Spencer laughs as he pulls on his boxers.

-

Brendon can totally win this bet. All he has to do is not jump Spencer. It's fine. No big deal. Even if it is the day before the full moon and Brendon feels like he's going to come if someone even looks at him sideways.

"No jerking off in the shower. I'll be able to smell if you do, Brendon," Spencer warns, and Brendon slams the bathroom door and yells, "Yeah, well I don't even want to jerk off anyway! Screw you!"

Okay, maybe Brendon can't win this bet. Fuck.

-

"Stop it," Brendon hisses, throwing Spencer a dirty look.

"What?" Spencer asks. "I'm not doing anything."

"You're not wearing any pants," Brendon grits out.

"And? It's hot," Spencer says.

Brendon knows. Brendon knows because he's wearing jeans and a hoodie and he had been really, really tempted to wear two pairs of underwear just in case Spencer tried anything.

Not Spencer, though. Spencer's just lying there, half naked, stretched out on the sofa and arching his back and smelling so good that Brendon just wants to--

"What?" he snaps, because he can feel Spencer looking at him.

"Oh, nothing," Spencer says with a shrug. "I just think it's interesting that you keep getting more and more turned on, is all."

"I hate you," Brendon snaps, getting up. "Like, honestly, I don't even want to have sex with you because I hate you."

"That's not what your dick's saying," Spencer says, raising an eyebrow and grinning brightly.

"Hate," Brendon yells over his shoulder. "I'm going to do the dishes. The unsexy, gross dishes that you left out because you're a jackass and I hate you."

"Have fun!" Spencer calls out. "I'm just going to lie here. Thinking about how last month you were so impatient the day before the full moon that I woke up to you jerking me off."

"Shut up," Brendon yells, slamming a cabinet for emphasis.

"And then you fingered yourself with my come," Spencer says even louder, "so you could ride me. It was a good time."

"There is something wrong with you," Brendon shouts back, very pointedly not thinking about just how hot that had been. Stupid fucking Spencer.

-

The dishes are the kind of filthy that comes from a week of neglect and Brendon sighs and takes off his hoodie before filling up the sink. This was a pretty good idea in theory - there is nothing even remotely sexy about dried macaroni and cheese that won't come out of the pot - but just being in the same house as Spencer is slowly driving Brendon crazy. Especially since Spencer doesn't seem to be doing anything but getting progressively more and more turned on until it's all Brendon can smell, no matter how much lemon zest dish soap he squirts into the sink.

Even after five months, Brendon still isn't quite used to the heightened senses thing, and it takes a couple of seconds for him to hear the low, grumbled moan over the sound of the faucet. "Stop it, assbag," he yells. "If I can't jerk off, you can't jerk off."

"You realize you don't have to yell, right?" Spencer says, his voice low and rough. "We can both hear each other just fine today."

"Yelling makes me feel better," Brendon says, purposefully yelling even louder than before. "Now stop jerking off."

"I'm not," Spencer huffs. "I'm just... touching. That makes me feel better."

"Touching yourself is touching yourself," Brendon snaps. "Now get in here."

"But," Spencer says, and Brendon can smell it when his arousal flares. Spencer is such a fucking jackass.

"Now," Brendon yells. "You clearly can't be trusted on your own."

"Whatever," Spencer mumbles, walking reluctantly into the kitchen.

"You're such a brat," Brendon says, rolling his eyes and turning back to the sink.

"We have a dishwasher, you know," Spencer says.

"Yeah, but sadly our dishwasher is not a robot who can scrub four days worth of dried, melted cheese off of things."

"I love it when you talk dirty," Spencer says, and Brendon can hear the smirk in his voice.

"At least help me dry," Brendon says, rolling his eyes. "You sitting back there and staring at my ass isn't helping anything."

"Oh, I don't know," Spencer says, and Brendon can smell it when he gets a little more turned on. "It's kind of helping me."

"Dry," Brendon hisses.

Spencer walks over to the sink, purposefully leaning in close to Brendon when he reaches for the dish rag. Brendon sucks in a sharp breath and scrubs at the bowl a little harder than necessary, the smell of Spencer filling his nose and his mouth whenever Brendon breathes in. Brendon can feel the way his whole body throbs with need, hot and almost dizzy with it, and he rinses the bowl off shakily and shoves it at Spencer to dry.

"You're being so unfair," Brendon mumbles, reaching for some forks to wash, and he can't help the way his whole body shudders when Spencer leans in and whispers in his ear, "Try living with this every day."

Spencer presses himself behind Brendon to put the bowl away after drying it, and when Brendon feels Spencer's body warm behind his, the hard line of his cock digging into Brendon's lower back, Brendon snaps. He drops the silverware he was mostly just pretending to wash and leans back into Spencer, moaning softly when Spencer automatically drops his mouth down to Brendon's neck. Spencer tosses the bowl in the general direction of the rack, and Brendon can't even bring himself to care when he hears it hit the counter and break, because Spencer is gripping onto Brendon's hips, pulling Brendon back against his body as he grinds his hips forward. Spencer growls low in his throat and sucks at the side of Brendon's neck, scraping his teeth over Brendon's skin. Brendon tips his head back onto Spencer's shoulder, baring his neck, and it isn't until Spencer's hand reaches for the fly of his jeans that Brendon remembers.

"Hey," he shouts, stomping down on Spencer's foot and turning around when Spencer yelps and jumps back. "Uh uh! No. Bad. Bad Spencer!"

"My foot," Spencer says sadly, glaring at Brendon and reaching down to rub at his toes. "That hurt."

"Oh get over it, you have super werewolf strength, you barely felt that," Brendon says, shaking his head a little in an effort to stop thinking about Spencer's dick.

"It hurts that you would do it in the first place," Spencer mumbles. "It hurts my heart."

"Oh my god, shut up," Brendon groans, slumping back against the sink and giving serious thought to locking himself in a room somewhere far, far away from Spencer and his stupid hotness. "You attacked me," Brendon says, "I'm pretty sure that means I win."

"I did not," Spencer says, stepping forward. "I was just putting up a dish, you're the one who was all--" he flaps his hands around a little, staring at Brendon accusingly.

"I was a dying bird?" Brendon asks.

"You got all leany, and then you put your stupid neck right in my face. What was I supposed to do?"

"I'd have started with not breaking a bowl and then molesting me," Brendon suggests.

"You told me to come in here," Spencer says, "I was perfectly happy on my own in the living room--"

"Molesting yourself?"

"You're the one who started this whole stupid bet, you know," Spencer says with a huff, stalking forward until he's pressed close against Brendon again. Brendon bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying not to think about the way Spencer's cock is pressing into his hip, the way Brendon can smell him through his boxers. Brendon's going to say something, he really is, but all of a sudden Spencer's hands are everywhere and his mouth is on Brendon's and somehow Brendon's reached up to tangle his hands in Spencer's hair. Brendon honestly doesn't know who moved first, but he can figure that out later, because oh my god does it feel good to finally kiss Spencer again.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, you should fuck me," Brendon babbles, his mouth open against Spencer's while he squirms forward, trying to rub his cock against Spencer's through his jeans, and Spencer laughs into Brendon's mouth.

"Yeah, I got that. Fuck, why are you wearing jeans--" Spencer groans, his fingers fumbling with the button and zip of Brendon's jeans until they're open and Spencer can tug Brendon's cock out of his underwear.

"To prevent this exact thing from happening," Brendon chokes out, his body jerking forward when Spencer's hand strokes over his cock, already wet with pre-come. "Spencer. Spencer, I can't--"

"Give me two seconds." Spencer sounds out of breath already, leaning heavy into Brendon and pulling his own cock out of his underwear until there's skin brushing against skin and Brendon thinks he's going to die, trying to hold out like this. Spencer fits his hand around both of their cocks and jerks them off roughly, his fist slick from pre-come. Brendon's just trying to stay upright, trying not to focus on the smell or the way the swollen head of his cock keeps bumping Spencer's or the way his whole body flushes when Spencer leans in and sucks at Brendon's bottom lip.

"Spencer," Brendon whines, grabbing onto Spencer's shoulders and digging his fingers in, arching forward with Spencer's hand. "Please, please, I need--"

"Yeah, Brendon, come on," Spencer groans. Brendon closes his eyes and lets himself focus on the heat building low in his stomach, blinking his eyes back open when he feels something wet over his cock. Spencer's coming, hunched over with his head tilted onto Brendon's shoulder, and that's more than enough for Brendon. He squeezes at Spencer's shoulders and comes while Spencer's still slowly jerking them off, his hips pressing forward and pushing his cock wetly against Spencer's.

Brendon's still not quite used to staying hard like this, and he shivers a little as Spencer's hand drags up and down the length of his cock. "Shit," he breathes out, reaching up with shaking hands to grab at Spencer's hair and tilt his head up for a kiss.

Spencer makes a happy, rumbling noise and squeezes at his cock before pulling back from Brendon's mouth. "Take your shirt off," Spencer says as he pushes his boxers down one-handed and then drops to his knees, never letting go of Brendon's cock.

"Huh?" Brendon says, because, well, huh?

"Take your shirt off," Spencer repeats. "It just gets in the way."

"The way of-- oh fuck," Brendon gasps out as Spencer sinks his mouth down over Brendon's cock without warning, licking at the head and making a pleased noise that vibrates against Brendon's cock in a really, really nice way.

"You taste so good," Spencer says, pulling off wetly and then licking over the length of Brendon's cock. Brendon groans and yanks his shirt up over his head as Spencer cleans his cock. Every now and then Brendon will stop and seriously think about just how strange his life has become, but now is so, so not the time, because Spencer is pushing two fingers against his hole, wet with their come.

Brendon tosses his shirt over his head and then cringes when he hears a splash as it lands in the sink full of dishes, but then Spencer's pressing his fingers in, the slide made easy with their come, and sucking Brendon's cock back into his mouth.

Brendon's oversensitive and still hard and caught between trying to focus on Spencer's mouth and his fingers at the same time. He just spreads his legs wider, though, hands unsteady on Spencer's shoulders as Spencer's fingers drag in and out, stretching Brendon, making him wish he was a lot more bendy so he could get at Spencer's cock right now.

Spencer pulls off for a second, catching his breath and licking up the side of Brendon's cock, adding a third finger to Brendon's ass and twisting them in deep. Brendon hisses, bearing down against Spencer's fingers, and Spencer nips a little at Brendon's thigh, right next to his cock.

"Oh my god, just fuck me," Brendon groans, shuddering when Spencer's fingers press into his prostate.

"You sure?" Spencer asks, rubbing at Brendon's prostate deliberately.

"Yes," Brendon groans, his hips jerking forward, cock bumping against Spencer's lips. Spencer grins and opens his mouth, licking the pre-come from Brendon's cock, and Brendon is about a second away from pushing Spencer down on the floor and riding him. Which actually might be kind of hot, huh.

"Okay, okay," Spencer says, pulling back and looking around the kitchen with wide eyes. "Counter? Or the table? Or should we just--"

"Now," Brendon says, clenching down around Spencer's fingers and tugging at his hair.

"Impatient," Spencer says, smirking up at him, but Brendon can't really complain because Spencer's finally pulling his fingers out and getting to his feet. "Hey," he says, leaning in and kissing Brendon soft and sweet.

"Uh huh, hi," Brendon says, petting at Spencer's hair for a second before grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him across the kitchen. He ignores Spencer's snort of laughter and pushes the chair at the head of the table off to the side, bending over the table and widening his stance. "Come on," he says, resisting the urge to actually wiggle his ass. He would never live that one down.

"I can't believe we've never done this before," Spencer says in a low voice, leaning down so he can press himself over Brendon's back, licking at the sweat on the back of Brendon's neck. Brendon pushes back immediately, but as much as he tries he can't actually get Spencer's cock inside like this.

"Yeah, what a shame, let's fix that now," Brendon groans, and Spencer finally straightens up and gets his fingers wet with spit, sliding them over Brendon's hole before lining up and pressing his cock in.

"Oh my god," Brendon moans, grabbing at the sides of the table and spreading his legs farther apart. "Yes, yes, yes." The slide burns a little but Brendon and Spencer would have already had sex twenty times today if not for the stupid bet, so Brendon really doesn't care. He pushes back with Spencer's thrusts, his cock sliding across the surface of the table and Spencer's hands tight on his hips. It's so good, it's fucking awesome, and Brendon doesn't even feel guilty for how close he is.

"Spencer, Spence," Brendon pants, and then he's coming, going tight around Spencer and shifting his hips so his own cock slides over the table while he rides out his orgasm. "Fuck," Brendon groans, letting go of the table and standing up on his tip-toes so he can lean back, just sort of grinding down over Spencer's cock. He knows Spencer's close, he can smell it, which never gets less weird and hot.

"Brendon," Spencer groans, nosing at Brendon's neck and biting down on his shoulder as he comes, hot and deep inside of Brendon. "Shit," Spencer gasps, licking over the sore spot on Brendon's shoulder. "Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, you just have to keep fucking me," Brendon says, bracing his hands on the table and shifting back on Spencer's cock.

"I guess there's no reason not to," Spencer says, grabbing at Brendon's hips and thrusting in deeper. "Since you already lost and everything."

"Wait," Brendon says, stilling his hips. "What the fuck?"

"You lost," Spencer says, trying to pull Brendon closer. "But let's not focus on that, let's just--"

"No," Brendon says, elbowing Spencer in the stomach just hard enough to make him pull back, and then turning around. "I did not."

"Would you stop hurting me?" Spencer says, rubbing at his stomach. "Domestic abuse still counts even if I'm a werewolf, asshole."

"I did not lose," Brendon says, ignoring Spencer's stupid lying, pouting face. "You lost. You're the one who started rubbing your dick on me."

"You're the one who called me in here and then begged me to fuck you," Spencer says, still frowning at Brendon and rubbing his stomach. "Plus you keep hurting me."

"Oh my god, get over it," Brendon says, rolling his eyes and leaning back against the table. "And I did not beg. I'm just saying, you don't rub your dick all over someone and then not fuck them when it's your stupid werewolf pheromones making them horny in the first place."

"Oh, really?" Spencer asks, quirking his eyebrow. "Is there some kind of etiquette book for situations like these? Because that seems sort of like a niche market."

"I did not lose," Brendon says, crossing his arms over his chest and staring pointedly at Spencer.

"You realize it's really hard to take you seriously when you're naked in our kitchen, right?" Spencer asks, smirking.

"You seemed perfectly fine with fucking me naked in our kitchen," Brendon points out.

"Only because you begged," Spencer says.

"Oh would you just admit that you lost already?" Brendon says. "It's not that big of a deal, anyway, I can pretty much guarantee that what I'm going to ask for is nowhere near as gross or kinky as what you would ask for."

"I don't know that," Spencer says. "You're the one who wanted to bet for sex stuff in the first place, that makes it seem like something you couldn't just ask me for."

"Well you seemed awful eager to take me up on it," Brendon says. "Because I've already told you, you're not peeing on me again."

"That was one time, and I've already apologized like seventeen times," Spencer says, blushing a little. "Besides, mine's not weird. I just wanted to try maybe, like, a foot thing."

"A foot thing?" Brendon asks. "Can you clear that up? Because there are lots of places to go with that, and not all of them are good."

"You get all squirmy when I rub your feet, okay?" Spencer says, shrugging. "I just thought this would be a good excuse to ask."

"Oh," Brendon says, because that's almost sweet, in a weird way. "I guess that's not that weird."

"See," Spencer mumbles.

"Since we're sharing," Brendon says, his voice a little softer too, "I just wanted-- I sort of wanted you to be rough with me."

Spencer blinks. "I'm already a werewolf. Do you mean, like... whips and chains?"

"Yeah, no, I didn't say I wanted you to be my sexy BDSM master. Just, I don't know, sometimes you get really close to losing it, to forgetting about control and holding back, and I want that. I want you to bite and hold on too tight and hold me down in bed and not say sorry afterward. And now that I say it out loud it sounds totally weird, so let's just pretend--"

"Hey," Spencer says, stepping forward and kissing Brendon slowly, probably just to shut him up. "That's not weird at all. It's just hard to lose control, you know? I don't ever want to really hurt you."

"I know," Brendon says, petting Spencer's sweaty bangs off his forehead. "But you won't. I trust you." Spencer rolls his eyes a little and leans his head against Brendon's hand, and now that Spencer's close again, Brendon's reminded of how they're both still hard, how Brendon's still a little sticky and open. He puts his arms around Spencer's neck and leans up to kiss him again, harder, moaning when Spencer's teeth dig into his lip. Spencer lifts him a little, sitting him on the table, and Brendon grins against his mouth and wraps his legs around Spencer's hips.

"If you admit that you lost," Brendon says trailing his mouth over to Spencer's ear and pressing closer to grind his cock against Spencer's, "not only can we have more sex right now, but I'll let you do the foot thing too."

Spencer pauses, and Brendon snorts out a laugh.

"Really? I'm offering you kinky foot sex and you have to think about it? I didn't know werewolves had such fragile egos."

Spencer rolls his eyes, sliding his hands underneath Brendon's ass on the table and squeezing. "Says the guy who just offered me kinky foot sex just so I'd tell him he won."

"Okay, okay," Brendon says, squirming and tilting his head back so Spencer can kiss his neck. "We both win. Now you should carry me upstairs and fuck me again, the table's kind of uncomfortable. And covered in jizz."

"Deal," Spencer says, hoisting him up and heading for the stairs. "But I am not cleaning your jizz off the table later."


End file.
